Seeing Through Poker Faces
by badasspolkadots
Summary: Race is an expert poker player, meaning he often picks up on things that others might not so easily notice... Basically a Race character study involving him being a really awesome friend


Race is far more observant than the boys will like to give him credit for, and knows more than anyone would think he does. Not that he does much with this information, he just likes to know things, he's naturally curious. Most of it he knows from the mouths of the boys themselves. They come to him with problems with girls, with each other, and for those few who have them, with their families. He has handled everything from interventions for drinking problems to interventions for romantic relationships (He will forever consider Jack and David to be is greatest success). Race is very easy to talk to, he'll sit and listen, maybe occasionally asking questions here or there for clarification and further prompting, but he will always wait to the end of the speech, rant or confession before offering his own opinion on the matter, then the boys are on their way.

The rest he picks up on his own, reading faces, examining pauses in speech, looking for nervous ticks. He wouldn't be the reigning poker champion of the lodging house, couldn't have defended that title for four years if he couldn't read a face, if he couldn't unearth the details of a person's life before even learning their name. If any of the boys ask him how he does it, he'll attribute it to years of playing poker, or just claim he knows his friends well, not telling them he mastered poker, and most other forms of gambling, in a period of three months, and that he knew his friends inside and out before he even really considered them his friends.

Crutchie claims he can read minds, and looks at him in awe whenever he expresses his knowledge, but Race knows that is scares some of the other boys, puts them on edge and makes them wonder if he's some kind of stalker or gossip. But that's not really the case. He just has a sharp eye, and a sharper memory, honed by years of paranoia, of looking over his shoulder, f being suspicious of all those around him. Maybe that was why he got on so well with Spot.

Spot was paranoid too, and Race knew it. He would claim he wasn't nervous, but then he would scratch the side of his face, or stick his thumbs in his suspenders, two of his ticks. They weren't hard to notice really, on any of the boys, but that's what Race said to convince them, and maybe himself that he was normal.

But it would have taken a sharp eye to spot the tiniest of flinches that Davey would give when someone went to clap him on the shoulder, revealing that the boys at school might not be so harmless as he had claimed them to be, or to notice Specs went stiff when hugged or touched too much, holding his breath and keeping his spine ramrod straight. It was easy for Race to see Mush balling his fists and breathing heavily whenever there was shouting, and even easier to hear Blink gasp for air in the middle of the night as he woke from yet another nightmare.

Race knew these reflexes, these nervous tics, as well as what caused them, were none of his damn business, but he did like knowing, because it gave him the means to help. He'd meet Dave after school, often accompanied by Jack, and they would walk him home, under the pretense of just being friendly, of missing their curly-haired smartass. He even offered to teach Dave how to fistfight, claiming that the streets he sold on were too rough for a guy who couldn't hold his own in a fight (he didn't tell Dave that he, Jack and Spot had already had a little meeting with these schoolboys who gave him so much trouble).

He found alternate ways to be kind to Specs, and was always willing to give him space, sometimes shouting at the other guys for not giving him enough air. He always made sure he wasn't talking too loud and would now often urge quiet in the lodging house, sometimes asking Mush if he wanted to go for a walk with him if the place got too loud and he noticed Mush was shaking. And Blink, well, there wasn't much he could do for Blink, despite Crutchie's claims, Race couldn't actually read minds, but he did make an effort to be extra nice to Blink the next day, sometimes offering to sell some of his papers (which was usually refused) or an extra cigarette (which was usually accepted). Blinks pride was a bit too harsh for him to do much more than that, but Race liked to think it made a difference. Even if it was miniscule, it helped him feel better about noticing all the little things, about remembering things about the boys that he shouldn't even know. For if he could put it to use, surely it was a good skill to have.


End file.
